


Incentive

by Teyke



Series: Cap-IM Tiny Reverse Bang ficlets [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 23:22:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4643913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teyke/pseuds/Teyke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony works out. Steve helps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Incentive

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [“I’m going to punch you in your stupid patriotic face.”](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/139128) by a_sparrows_fall. 



> Written for the Tiny Reverse Bang entry [GOLDEN](http://capim-tinybang.tumblr.com/post/126167345333/title-im-going-to-punch-you-in-your). Please check out the link to [a_sparrows_fall](http://asparrowsfall.tumblr.com/)'s wonderful art before reading this!

“I’m going to punch you,” Tony hissed, then hauled himself up and hit the hand-pad that Steve obligingly held out. He dropped back to the sit-up bench slowly, stomach muscles protesting, then hauled himself up again, resisting the urge to groan, and punched with his opposite hand. “Right in your stupidly patriotic face.”

On the next punch, Steve was frowning. “My face isn’t stupidly patriotic,” he said sternly. Then, as Tony dropped back again, he added, “It’s nobly patriotic,” and Tony could  _hear_  the grin in his voice, damn it. He hauled himself up again with a glare.

“See how noble it is with a broken nose,” and back down, “from when I punch you,” up, “in the face!”

“If you’re this tired after a few sit-ups,” said Steve mock-admonishingly, “I don’t see how you’re going to manage to break my nose.”

“A few!” Indignation made the next sit-up easier. “We’re not all the peak of physical perfection,” down, “I think after doing two hundred sit-ups,” up, “I’m allowed to be a bit,” down, “irritated at your face,” up, “you don’t have to look so,” down, “smug!” 

“Actually, you’re only at a hundred-sixty-seven,” said Steve, halfway between apologetic and amused.

Tony bit back a swear and focused on his sit-ups. Perfect form, he thought grimly. Perfect form, and then later he’d punch Captain Perfect in his stupidly patriotic, stupidly  _perfect_  face. 

By the time he’d reached three hundred – which was a perfectly respectable amount of sit-ups if you weren’t blessed with the Super Soldier Serum – he was breathing hard. He unhooked his legs from the bars and let them fall to either side of the narrow bench, then lay back, trying not to sound like he was having an asthma attack. Possibly three hundred had been a bit ambitious. Lying here for a while sounded great. 

A moment later he felt Steve’s weight settled between his thighs, his legs tangled up with Tony’s. He huffed out a laugh. “I’m going to have a hard enough time getting up, you don’t have to try and trip me.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Steve, and Tony cracked an eye open. Yeah, that was his  _innocent_  face. “I bet I could entice you up here.”

“Oh?”

“Really,” said Steve, biting his lip – probably to keep from laughing at Tony, but Steve biting his lip, for  _whatever_ reason, with his hands splayed out across Tony’s stomach, fingers and palms hot through the thin material of Tony’s shirt even though  _Tony_ was the one who’d been doing all the work – Tony started to sit up.

His stomach and sides protested, painfully: they’d had a minute to cool down, and they did  _not_  want to start going again. Tony groaned and slumped back to the bench, closing his eyes. “Ngh.”

Movement, and light shifted beyond his closed eyelids. Breath brushed his cheek, and then lips pressed gently against his own. Tony opened his eyes and found Steve’s face just inches above his own.

“Or I guess I could come to you,” said Steve, smiling.

 


End file.
